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Springville City, Utah County, U. T. 



(COPYRIGHT SECURED.) 




PR0 10 CITY, UTAB: 

SWEATER 4 MCEWAN, BoOK AND JOB PEINTEKS. 








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FOR THE 






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BY 



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Springville City, Utah County, U. T. 



(COPYRIGHT SECURED.) ' f; 



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FROrO CITT, UTAH: 

Sleatek * McEwAN, Book and Job Pkintees. 



7f 7^7 



nSTTZ^OlDTJCTIOlsi . 



The author of the following Poem, yield- 
ing to the many urgent requests made of 
him, has consented to attempt its publica- 
tion, and sincerely hopes the sentiments 
contained therein may long continue to he 
appreciated hy those into whose hands it 
may fall, a.nd he productive of a heH^er 
understanding, 'more consideration and 
kindly feelings than is frequently found 
in the various phases of social life. The 
writer is quite confident that the unhind- 
ness often exhibited, both in public and pri- 
vate life, is not always due to ivilfulness 
or hardheartedness , but more generally 
arising from a lack of proper reflection. 
If the perusal of the following lines, under 
the blessings of God, shall he productive of 
more peace, harmony and good luill in 
any of the relations of social life, even to 
a small degree, the writer will feel pro- 
portionally grateful and realize that his 
efforts have not been in vain. 

Respectfully , 

W. CLEGG. 

SpringviUe, February Wfh, 1876. 



A. IPXjEj^ 



— FOR THE — 



SLIGHTED ONE'S 



As I'ye passed through life I have often seen, 

Things, that I thought, had better not been; 

I have noticed distinction and partial act 

Such as ever from peace and joy detract. 

I have seen when slighting has wounded deep, 

Seen many a gentle one sit and weep, 

O'er sayings unkind, neglect and scorn. 

Or a blighting frown on a proud face worn. 

I have seen when social crowds have met. 

Some would notice a few, the rest forget; 

In the dance, for instance, where all repair, 

To enliven the spirit and banish care. 

Do the happy always remember those, 

Whose souls are sadden'd by heavy woes? 

Do they think of the widow that sits by the wall 

In a well-worn gown and faded shawl? 

She said, "my heart is heavy with grief, 

Time seems to bring me little relief; 

I'll join for a while with the festive crowd. 

To refresh my feelings with sorrow bow'd; 

Disconsolate, lonesome, as I can be, 

I will see if any one cares for me." 



6 A Plea for the Slighted One^s. 

She goes escorted by some kind hand, 

Who her desolate state can understand? 

Aside from this little attention shown, 

She sits like a stranger unwelcom'd,' unknown. 

The young and handsome dancers there 

Always choose the young and fair; 

In every circle they form a part, 

But never think of that lonely heart. 

She sits and reflects of days gone by, 

And drops a tear and heaves a sigh ; 

She thinks of him laid low in death, 

Who had loved tier co his latest breath; 

Whispers '^had he been here I know, 

I had not been neglected so. 

I came to lighten ray harden liere, 

But my heart feeb f:;tiil more lone and drear." 

Could not you gentlemen dancers spare 

A gleam of joy for that breast of care? 

The fair might surely atford to rest, 

While the dance beguiled the aching breast. 

II. 

There's a girl that came in a "calico" dress, 
As neat as the best, if it did cost less. 
She's as good as any, and better, may be, 
Thau some dress'd up in finery; 
She has clothed herself in her best to-night, 
And a share in the dance is but her right; 
Her clelhing, not costly, may be as clean 
As that which envelopes the fairest Queen. 
She earns her living, and that should be, 
The proudest dancer's guarantee; 
Pier face may not be quite as fair 
As some conceited beauty's there, 
But many a gem that decks a crown 
Once lay neglected, unseen, unknown, 
And "Birds of Paradise" only show 
Brighter plumes and a deeper glow, 



A Plea for the Slighted One's. 



But if compell'd to change their dress 

Their duller hues would please us less. 

Surpassing sweetness is often found 

In flowers that bloona quite near the ground. 

Then gentlemen pass not heedless by 

The "Wallflower," sitting with downcast eye. 

III. 

Ladies! whenever you lead the way, 
•Choose not always the gallant and gay, 
But sometimes seek for the hand of one 
Whose merriest days, it seems, are gone; 
Your fair white hand will not be disgraced 
If it is in that of a "veteran" placed, — 
It will not injure your fame one whit 
And should not lessen your pleasure a bit. 
You should not slight his timeworn face. 
Though he dances not with a finished grace; 
You will gain the love of the good and kind. 
And that will be an advantage, you'll find. 
He has been young, like you, one day, — 
In honor his years may have pass'd away; 
He has bravely faced the storms of life. 
His scars are those of unequal strife; 
He will bless your eff"ort his heart to cheer. 
And it may prevent an indignant tear. 
The youthful crowd can wait awhile 
Till the face of care assumes a smile; 
When only a part claim all the joy 
The pleasure of some it must destroy; 
The spirit laments o'er memories past, 
And a gloom o'er remaining life is cast; 
Then generously all should try to spare 
A mite of attention to each one there. 

IV. 

Somewhere at times we all may meet,— 
In "Public Halls" or on the streets — 



8 A Plea for the Slighted One's. 

One who had been by vice clecoy'd 
Whose once bright hopes seem now destroy'd. 
Perhaps the "Drunkard's Cup" was the bait 
Wliich lured him on to destruction's gate; 
Unguarded words or deeds of shame 
May liave cast black odium on his name. 
It may be a female once deceived, 
By honey 'd lips she had believed, 
Then left, abandoned, to her fate, 
Crushed under burning shame and hate; 
Whose hopes and aims were once as pure, 
As many whose virtue seems secure; 
But many, who never were tempted, prate 
And brag of their own imraacuhite state, 
Who might have fallen as low as she. 
Had they been tempted equally. 
Of her maddening wrongs she cannot speak, 
• For scalding tears and a burning cheek, — 
She is cast aside, in contempt, to die. 
Or liarden in crime and the world defy; 
She is spurned and shunned in every place, 
While her spoiler walks with unblushing face; 
He is welcoined around with the blandest smiles, 
With his black heart fill'd with hellish wiles. 
Society, here, makes a horrid mistake, — 
They murder a lamb and cherish a snake; 
A reptile who should for his crimes atone 
In a way that would make him let others alone. 
Crush not the victim of guile and deceit, 
But in paths of salvation direct her feet; 
Let the seducer encounter the blame 
And the reward receive of his deeds of shame. 

V. 

Through unwise allusions to unwise deeds, 
There's many a heart with sorrow bleeds. 
Does it seem best, with an angry frown, 
The last faint rays of hope to drown? 



A Plea for the Slighted One's. 



Ignore the wretched or always chide, 

Refer to their errors, their griefs deride? 

Twill only tear open the healing wound, 

And tend to make vice still more abound. 

While inflexible virtue endorses no sin, 

It strives the erring from crime to win; 

A cheerful good morning, a smile or a nod 

Would come to such hearts like a blessing from God. 

"My mistakes are forgiven," that poor heart would say, 

"And I now see the dawn of a happier day." 

Some hearts will melt at a gentle word 

That cannot be conquered by dungeon or sword. 

If all took this course twould be better by far 

Than scorning and frowning and profitless war; 

Many eyes that look fierce sweet tears would bedim 

And hearts would be softened, now callous and grim. 

Then each the true friend of humanity be. 

And slight not repentance, wherever it be; 

For all have their follies, shortcomings and sins. 

And will all sue for mercy, when enquiry begins. 

A compromise never to crime can be given. 

But all that repent have a promise of heaven; 

If the Judge, high above, no mercy could spare. 

Our hopes of the future might sink in dispair. 

Then despise not, or pass with Pharisee-eyes, 

The sinner, repentant, attempting to rise; 

If we strive to wipe away misery's tears, 

It will bear reflection in after years. 

♦ 

VI. 

And when rich men their feasts provide, 
With dainties collected from far and wide; 
When pleasures and smiles beam all around, 
And all rejoice at sweet music's sound; 
Do they think of those that labor'd long, 
To build the mansion so fair and strong? 
Wrought all the comforts around them spread— 
The clothes they wear, their daily bread? 



10 A Plea for the Slighted One's. 

Fought their battles with foreign foes? 

Shielded their homes from a host of woes? 

Braved winter's cold and summer's heat 

To store with plenty the rich retreat? 

While perchance themselves in poverty dwell, 

Suffering more than they care to tell? 

Some much endure, where little is said, 

Go thinly clad and scantily fed; 

Many a family noble and true, 

Suffer a martyrdom shaded from view: 

They should be both well housed and fed, 

Who build the houses and "raise the bread!" 

Who all their strength and talents employ, 

To make the comforts the rich enjoy; 

With grateful feeling, they should take car© 

The laborers their festivities share. 

The poor, the aged, infirm and blind. 

Should also be kindly borne in mind, 

And if they might not come to the feast. 

They should be thought of at home, at least. 

The Saviour was poor as man could be, 

Wlien he sojourned in mortality? 

He never despised the poor or maimed, 

But each a portion of sympathy claimed. 

Then while you rejoice in the blessings convey'd, 

By the sacrifice Jesus on Calvary made. 

Think, as you sit at a sumptuous board. 

Of those who can scarcely essentials afford; 

Remember, that God is the Father of all. 

That all are partakers of Death, by the fall, 

Who, when with his levelling dart shall strike, 

The kings, and the beggars will all be alike, 

And nothing we claim on the earth will be ours 

Until guaranteed by the "Heavenly Powers." 

VIL 

Young men, to your parent's counsels give heed, 
And grieve not their feelings by word or deedj 



A Plea for (he Slighted One^s. 11 

la your childhood their stout arms supported you well, 
And they loved you far better than language can tell; 
In return, as in weakness and age they descend, 
Let your strong arms the flickering life-lamp defend; 
The kindness return which they lavished on you. 
Yes, cheerfully cancel the debt which is due. 
If neglect or unkindness, to them, j'ou have shown. 
That sin to yourself and your parents is known; 
Like a cankerworni eating, destroys their peace 
And none but yourselves can bring them release. 
Your errors acknowledge, without more delay. 
And seek their forgiveness— they'll soon pass away. 
Can you tell me the worth when your parents are gone, 
Of the words, "I forgive you, God bless you my son?" 
You will value them more than diamonds, or gold, 
When the lips that have said them are silent and cold. 

VIII. 

Young maidens, revere their instructions too,— 

Their hearts are full of good wishes for you; 

They have guarded your Interest, have sought your weal 

With the fervor of love parents only can feel; 

They have guided your feet through your earlier years. 

Have wept o'er your sickness and banished your fears; 

Protected each lamb in the family fold, 

flave fed you and screened you from hunger and cold; 

Have sympathised with you in every distress, — 

Their efforts untiring their offspring to bless; 

And now that their heads are silver'd by time. 

To treat them unseemly would be a great crime. 

Revere their advice, their age and their love 

And angels will watch you with joy from above; — 

But treat their affection with slighting and scorn, 

'Twere better for you, you had never been born. 

To them, with politeness, ever seek to behave. 

Make happy, by kindness, their path to the grave; 

Then when on the earth no longer they dwell. 

It will comfort your hearts, if you've treated them well. 



12 A Plea for the Slighted One's. 

IX. 

And parents, by precepts of wisdom prepare, 

The hearts of your children life's trials to bear; 

Expect not more than they really can do, — 

You would think that was hard if required of you; 

But study their frame, their nature, their powers, — 

For over exactions the best temper sours; 

And slight not the sorrows that trouble their breasts, 

Nor always refuse their little requests. 

Be quick to forgive, when of wrongs they repent, 

At their quivering lip let your bosom relent; — 

If a little one cannot its sorrows disclose 

To its parents, where can it unburden its woes? 

To whom should its heart for sympathy seek, 

Or to have the big tears wiped away from its cheek? 

How sad a young bosom, uncared for, must feel, — 

The heart that repels it, surely, harder than steel ! 

X. 

And wives, recollect, you have duties too,— 
That much, very much, depends upon you; 
If you would retain your husband's respect 
Never his welfare and comfort neglect; 
Sympathise with him in toil and distress 
And he, in return, your kindness will bless. 
Woman's sweet smile, with a magical power, 
Can lighten the gloom of the darkest hour; 
Her words dictated by kindness and love 
Drop like sweet music from regions above; — 
A help meet for man a woman should be, 
Such Heaven intended as her destiny. 
The companion of man, her dignified place, 
And well is she fitted that station to grace; 
Not to control him, his wishes despise, 
Nor as dictator presumingly rise, 
But willing and loving and gracious and kind, — 
Like the vine, round the oak, carressingly twined, 
To earnestly help him his trials to bear, 



A Plea for the Slighted One's. 13 

And chase from his brow t"he dark shadows of care. 

Man's place is to guide, control and defend, 

And woman's, her aid to his energies lend; 

If each flll'd their spheres, as Heaven ordained, 

What numberless blessings by each would be gained? 

But when wives forget the allegiance they owe. 

The anguish it causes they never can know; 

The sunshine of peace disappears from his face 

And sorrow its lines on his countenance trace, 

The prime of his manhood is speedily past 

And the tokens of age accumulate fast. 

Slights are most cruel from those we esteem, — 

Their happiness vanishes quick as a dream. 

Man's lot on the earth would be lonesome and drear 

Without woman's sweet presence, his spirit to cheer; 

Many a husband has scorned to complain. 

And chosen a gloomy reserve to maintain; 

For life has no longer a charm to impart, 

When honor, esteem and affection depart. 

XI. 

Some husbands, O shamel slight the wives of their youth 
And forget to deal with them in honor and truth; 
You lov'd them at first when you took them to wife, 
That love should increase as you travel through life; 
They bore you children in sorrow and pain, 
And that of itself your love should retain. 
They have bravely stood by you when troubles appeared, 
Your dangers, your cares and perplexities shared; 
In sickness have nursed you with tender regard, 
If your life could be spared that was ample reward; 
Yes, the wife of your bosom can feast on your smiles, 
Her heart of its sorrows your good will beguiles. 
An ordeal she pass'd ere your offspring drew breath, 
The anguish of which brought her nigh unto death; 
'Twould be cruel indeed if you slighted her woes. 
Their number and agony man never knows; 
Susceptible nerves, excessively fine, 



14 A Plea for the Slighted One's. 

Her wonderful organization- entwine. 

Then if irritation, with electrical speed, 

Cause a petulant word, pray give it no heed; 

But noble and generous a light word abide, — 

Her true woman's heart its own rudeness will chide; 

Her words sometimes drop ere thought is matured, 

And grief is in consequence often endured. 

Be not too exacting, forgive and forget, — 

Full perfection need not be expected just yetr 

Defer not your kindness till life ebbs away, 

Then frantic and vainly beseech her to stay; 

Affection seems cruel, airiving so late. 

Though she smile in return as she passes death's gate; 

Wait not till the pulses of life are nigh spent 

And then of your cold inattention repent; 

Though she freely forgives and listens once more, 

As if music she heard from the heavenly shore; 

To others 'twill seem like a mockery vile, 

Like the visage of murder attempting a smile, 

But comfort her spirit while health yet remains. 

It will help her to bear all her sorrows and pains; 

From her eyes the pure lovelight in beauty will beam, 

And the trials of life will pass* like a dream. 

Though her color be faded, and wrinkled her face, 

Reuiember the days of her beauty and grace, 

When she gave you herself, a royal bequest. 

And you felt like a monarch jneflfably bless'd. 

XII. 

'Tis the Poet's legitimate task to unfold 
How to conquer by love, how the conquer'd to hold; 
If he rightly fulfills his bright mission below. 
His soul with divine inspiration will glow; 
The holy desire, in his bosom, will burn 
To help fallen nature to God to return; 
To scorch, when 'tis needful, by sayings like fiame, 
Or alarm as when thunders from Sinai came. 
'Tis his duty, in fairness, his weapons to wield. 



A Plea for Che Slighted One's. 13 

To arouse due reflection, the injured to shield; 

To reopen the hearts which unlvindness has barr'd, 

To soften the conscience grown careless and hard; 

By words fitly spoken truth's beauties unfold 

As from "Baskets of Silver take Apples of Gold." 

To speak for those lips that cannot express 

The keen sense of wrong which their owner's oppress; 

To plead for those hearts that never could tell, 

Of the sorrows corroding that in them dwell. 

Some spirits there are that still must bear 

With slights till their souls consume with care; 

And some could not of their wrongs complain 

For a breaking heart and a burning brain; 

Then pardon the freedom I now assume «« 

And admit, for this plea, there is plenty of room. 

MM II M I II 



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